


Lessons in the Art of Trick or Treating

by wyntera



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 05:43:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16423514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntera/pseuds/wyntera
Summary: A little undercover work is no reason to miss out on some fun Halloween traditions.





	Lessons in the Art of Trick or Treating

Hair up. Hair down. Hair up? Or hair down? “Hey, Jesse? Are you out there?”

“Sure am, sweet pea. You need me?”

“Should I wear my hair up or down?”

“Down. You look more dramatic that way.”

Hanzo runs his fingers through his hair, tossing it this way and that before shaking his head and letting the hair settle like a curtain around his face. Unhappy with the result, he picks up the hair brush and combs it again. “I cannot get it to hang right.”

“It ain’t that big a deal, sug.”

“Hmph.” He puts down the brush and tosses his head one more time, muttering to himself, “I am not the one that spent two hundred dollars at the party store.”

“What was that?” Jesse calls through the closed bathroom door, much closer than he was a moment ago.

“Nothing! I will be out in a minute!” Figuring there is not much else he can do with his hair without product, he tugs on his red and black velvet cape and ties it around his neck. The fabric is immediately too hot and uncomfortable. He is hardly surprised; the thing cost ten bucks to buy and probably less than a dollar to make. The tall collar attached to the top looks ridiculous on him, as does the poofy white shirt with ruffled sleeves. He applies a little more black shadow around his eyes, then picks up the set of plastic fangs. They fit over his teeth like a mouthguard but are half as comfortable.

He bares his fangs at himself in the mirror and nearly spits them out. Laughing, he shoves them up harder and tries again. Better. Hopefully he doesn’t lose his fangs in front of the children. Donning his gloves, Hanzo gives himself one last look in the mirror and adapts a regal air before opening the door.

Their shared bedroom across the hall is bisected with clutter. On one side of the bed is an array of surveillance equipment and monitors, all focused on different camera angles of either their own house or the ones down the street. Their weapons and gear are also laid out and ready to go at a moment’s notice. On the other side is a pile of shopping bags and ripped open packages from the party store, and his lover bent over applying the last of his white makeup to his slathered face. Jesse glances up in the reflection of the mirror on the dresser and smiles. “Lookin’ good, handsome!”

Hanzo tries not to smile but the absurdity of Jesse’s outfit combined with the bulge of the plastic fangs in his mouth makes it too difficult. “Good ephening, and phank you,” Hanzo says, then frowns at Jesse when he laughs at the garbled syllables that come out. “Phut up. Thesthe thingth are hard tho thalk with.”

“I told you you wouldn’t like it,” Jesse says. His face is caked with white cream and powder. Hanzo guesses Jesse will be bitching about it before the night is through. “Maybe you leave most of the talkin’ to me tonight. Don’t need you scarin’ the kids away.”

“Ith thath noth--hol’ on.” Hanzo pulls the fangs free and licks at his teeth. “Is that not the point? To give them a scare?”

“Sure, but we want our house to look inviting. This ain’t goin’ to work if no kids want to come knockin’ cause we’ve got a slurring vampire drunk on blood and handin’ out candy.”

“With the amount of decorations you crammed into that tiny porch, I am sure we will have plenty of customers. What is that?” He steps closer to peer into the little container Jesse produces from his pocket. “Contacts?”

Jesse plucks one of the lime green contacts from the solution they float in. “I had Genji put some in with our last supply drop.”

Hanzo crosses his arms, not bothering to hide his exasperated smile as Jesse tilts his head back to fit the contact to his eye. “You have been planning this costume for that long? I thought this was a spur-of-the-moment idea.”

“Well...maybe I fibbed a little on that one.” Jesse blinks rapidly and looks at Hanzo, one eye a normal whiskey brown and the other a vibrant unnatural green. “It’s a shame we’re on assignment. I wanted to take you trick-or-treatin’ all proper-like for your first time. Next year, we’re gettin’ a crew together and we’ll hit up some small town suburb. Show you what it’s really like.”

“I know enough about the practice to know it is a child’s activity,” Hanzo points out as Jesse applies the remaining contact lens to his other eye. “You and your insistence on exposing me to all your childhood games…”

“Listen, the clan may have made you into a lean mean fightin’ machine, but they did a shit job of teachin’ you to be a kid. Maybe if they’d done better you wouldn’t’ve been such a sourpuss when we first met.” In response Hanzo sticks his tongue out at Jesse, just to see him smile. “See, I’m a good influence on you.”

“Debatable.”

“Trick-or-treatin’ is a rite of passage that all children should go through, regardless of where they come from or how old they are.” He points a white-smudged finger at Hanzo. “Even forty-year-old kids.”

“Almost forty,” Hanzo grouses, then snaps playfully at the finger with his teeth. Jesse darts away, far more giggly than usual. The rest of his outfit is remarkably similar to his normal gear, just themed more toward the holiday. Some pieces are from his stealth gear, others are thrown together from fabric he picked up at the little craft shop two doors down from the party store. He dons a black cowboy hat that Jesse picked up from who-knows-where and hands Hanzo a bandana. “Can you help me with my mask? I don’t wanna smudge it on my makeup.”

Hanzo looks down at the scrap of fabric and the skeleton grin painted on the front. “When did you find the time to do this?”

“While you were sleepin’ in, lazy bones,” Jesse teases, leaning down so Hanzo can reach.

They’ve been on an undercover assignment for going on a month now. Hanzo has avoided a lot of undercover work with Overwatch, his skills more useful in a combat situation or sniping from afar. This particular assignment, however, had more than enough perks for him to put aside his dislikes and sign on. Playing the role of a middle aged man besotted with his boyfriend, while acting with a man he actually might-of-sort-of be in love with, was too good to pass up. Jesse had been happy to agree. It meant a solid month of the two of them in constant contact and while Hanzo expected them to grate on each other after a while, nothing like that has happened. No, if anything, working and living with Jesse has been nothing short of the happiest he has felt in a very long time. Hence the maybe-could-be love that Hanzo’s been feeling lately.

He hasn’t decided how to broach the idea of moving in together when they get back.

Last night they finally had their big break, the Talon target heading out with his family to go to a haunted trail on the edge of town and leaving a very important microchip unattended at home. Avoiding the Talon security system had been a challenge for Hanzo, much to his pleasure. He so rarely gets a chance to use his ninja skills for breaking into a place with a laser grid. His excitement carried him all the way home where he tackled Jesse on the second floor landing. They both ended up naked, sated, and with rug burns in interesting places.

Hanzo expected them to leave soon after, but Winston told them to hold their cover for another week on the off-chance they could get more out of this Talon source. The move feels risky, but he and Jesse have stayed put, keeping on with their routine. Still, they need to get this microchip to Winston for analysis, and they need to do that tonight.

What a fortuitous night for Halloween.

All he and Jesse know is that at some point that evening an Overwatch agent will come knocking. They can slip them the microchip and no one will be the wiser. In the meantime, Hanzo and Jesse can have some fun.

Jesse tries to lean in and steal a kiss before the mask is in place but Hanzo leans back. “Ah ah ah, not with all that makeup on your face. Do you want to ruin my lipstick?”

“Aw, come on hun,” he whines, eyes on Hanzo’s perfectly dark painted lips. Hanzo ignores him and pulls the mask up. Jesse sighs, but Hanzo can tell he is still smiling behind the mask. “Fine, but you owe me that one plus interest.”

Hanzo’s lips bend into a wicked smirk. “I think you’ll appreciate it when I leave lipstick stains all over you.”

Jesse’s eyebrows shoot up and disappear under the brim of his hat. If his face wasn’t covered in white goop, he would surely be red as a tomato. The man is shamefully easy to rile up. Message delivered, Hanzo turns to grab the special piece of candy packaged differently than all the others they will be handing out, the one containing a microchip that could put a real dent in Talon’s operations. He slips it in his pocket and arranges his cape. “The sun has almost set; people will be arriving soon. Are you ready?”

He glances over and catches Jesse adjusting his pants and shooting Hanzo a glare. “Can’t just bring up stuff like that all willy-nilly, Hanzo. There’s kids comin’ over.” No sooner does he finish when the doorbell sounds through the house. Hanzo’s laugh follows him as they head down the stairs to answer it.

Hanzo doesn’t have much experience with children; even in his own childhood, he and Genji were often sequestered away from other kids their age. When they did play with others it was with the children of other members of the Shimada clan, so all their interactions were tinged with the unearned respect that only comes from kids being told to be on their best behavior. As an adult the issue never came up, and as an assassin he made it a point to avoid being around kids if he could. Less risk of truly innocent bystanders that way.

Efi, Orisa, and Torbjörn’s brood are the only children he interacts with on a regular basis. Considering Efi is a child prodigy that can run circles around most of them intellectually and Orisa weighs over one ton and wields a fusion cannon, perhaps they are not the best examples of what he can expect from trick-or-treaters. Jesse assures him that everything will be fine, and waits until Hanzo pops his fangs back in place before greeting their first guest.

The children are a delight. Some are shy and need their escorts to come up to the door with them, gently prompting them to say ‘trick-or-treat.’ Others boldly march up the path, more focused on acquiring candy than the two funny-looking adults handing it out. There are a lot of store-bought costumes, a few homemade ones, and a lot more princesses than Hanzo has ever seen in his life. Jesse is wonderful with them, greeting each one with outlandish southern expressions that are exaggerated even by Jesse’s standards. He compliments their costumes, acts appropriately frightened by the younger children and squares off against the older kids. Some of the escorts even flirt a little with Jesse; Hanzo would be jealous if not for the fact that Jesse proudly wraps his arm around Hanzo’s waist, either oblivious or willfully ignorant of the come-ons from one of the more blatant soccer moms. When Hanzo sneaks a handful of Jesse’s ass between trick-or-treaters, he revels in the indignant little squeak he gets from the cowboy.

One parent asks for Hanzo to pose with her little girl, a tiny toddler in her own vampire costume. Jesse is more than happy to whip out his own phone and get a photo as well. “We’re getting this framed,” Jesse coos as he admires the picture, the mother and daughter retreating down the sidewalk, the girl waving goodbye to Hanzo. “This is too cute. Mei is going to have a fit, you know.”

“Let me see.” Hanzo tries to grab at the phone but Jesse holds it away, knowing Hanzo’s tricks. “I am not going to delete it!”

“Yeah, sure you won’t. Cause I already sent it to Hana. Look, no touch.”

Jesse turns the phone so Hanzo can see, and Hanzo grimaces. The picture is adorable, much to his chagrin. He’s kneeling down next to the little girl, both wrapped in black capes and baring their fangs at the camera. He had been hoping that the light was too dim for a good picture. “Please tell me you are joking about sending that to Hana?”

“Sweetheart, Halloween is about looking silly and not caring,” Jesse says, pocketing the phone.

“Then everyday must be Halloween for you.”

Jesse elbows him hard; lucky for Hanzo it’s with his flesh arm. “At least you’ve had a little look-a-like show up. Not one damn cowboy all night! Hogwash is what it is.”

Hanzo has to pause and mouth  _ hogwash _ to himself. This must be another McCree-ism that he will never understand. He’s about to question the peculiar term when Jesse lets out a long whistle and hitches his thumbs in his belt loops. “Well, slap my ass and call me Clementine, I stand corrected.”

_ “What?”  _ He follows Jesse’s line of sight and he nearly lets the fangs fall out of his mouth.

From down the street comes five conspicuous figures, all dressed in very familiar Southwestern clothing. It seems their colleagues have been going through Jesse’s closet in their absence. Reinhardt and Ana have on simple button-downs and jeans, a cowboy hat perched atop his head and her hair wrapped in one of Jesse’s serapes. In front of them is Orisa and Efi, decked out as matching cowboys complete with toy pea-shooters and faux-leather chaps. Efi has a toy lasso and seems to be trying to master roping anything that they walk near. Orisa has not one but two serapes, one around her shoulders and the other draped over her back like one would a horse. Attached to her hips like saddlebags are two bags bulging with candy. And tromping along next to Efi is Torbjörn himself in a black cowboy suit, a big gold sheriff’s star on his chest and a giant Jack O'Lantern bucket gripped in his claw.

“I was not expecting that,” Hanzo murmurs as the little group sees them. Efi gasps and grabs Orisa and Torbjörn by their arms, pulling them along. Or, trying to pull them along; Orisa is more of an immovable object, but she goes along happily.

“Howdy there, cowpokes,” Jesse greets with a wide grin that Hanzo does not have to see to know is there.

“Howdy!” Efi squeals, running up the last few feet of the path. She just barely remembers not to go in for a hug, skipping to a halt at the steps. “Trick or treat!”

“Yes! Trick or treat!” Orisa mimics, coming up next to Efi. She is too tall to walk up the front steps, simply holding a ghost bag out in front of her. “Efi explained that on the last day of the month of October, one can present oneself in a costume at a stranger’s door. One can then speak the phrase, ‘trick or treat,’ in exchange for various small candies and sweets. So far, we have had a ninety-four point seven percent success rate!”

Her head tilts and she looks down at Torbjörn, her eyes turning from happy upside down V shapes to plus signs as she zeroes in on him expectantly. Behind them, Reinhardt pipes up. Loudly. “What do we say to the nice gentleman?”

Torbjörn narrows his eyes in a glare over his shoulder at Reinhardt, then grits out, “Trick or treat.”

“Trick or treat!” Efi shouts again, not quite loud enough to mask Ana’s laughter.

Hanzo goes about giving them each their candy, being sure to slip the microchip into Torbjorn’s pail. Meanwhile Jesse takes the opportunity to rub it on a little thick. “Well, ain’t you three just the cutest buckaroos I ever did see. What do we have here, a sheriff and two outlaws?”

Efi shakes her head, the hat on top jiggling from being too big for her. “We’re deputies,” she explains, tapping the smaller star she has pinned to her shirt.

“And considering the bounty on your head, I suggest you keep your mouth shut, McCree,” Torbjörn says with every ounce of warning he can muster.

Jesse shoots a finger gun at him and clicks his teeth. “Message received.”

“What do you say now?” Ana calls.

As if by Pavlovian response, all three trick-or-treaters reply, “Thank you!” Efi and Orisa head back down the path but Torbjörn lingers just long enough to add, “Rendezvous point Delta, three days, don’t leave anything behind. Stay safe.”

“Happy Halloween,” Jesse replies, tipping his hat to Torbjörn. He lets the other man get all the way to the others before calling out, “Hey, Sheriff!” When they all turn to look Jesse has his phone out and captures a group shot, complete with Torbjörn’s indignant glower. “Happy Halloween!”

The fangs from Hanzo’s mouth topple out onto the sidewalk when he bursts out laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like that and want more, want to check out my art, or just want to chat, come on by my tumblr! You can find me under username wyntera. And if twitter is more your game, come and join me there, just look for @ThreeCatDesigns.
> 
> And hey. Thanks.


End file.
